October 15th, 2008

I went to a meeting last night, it felt so good. 

Sometimes the best part of them is just to laugh and hang out with everyone in the parking lot.

My dad read my journal. He slid a note underneath my door that said: 

“This fat bitch puts food on the table.
This fat bitch gave you everything
Find yourself or you’ll be lost.”

Great words of advice from a guy who sits on the couch all day. He hasn’t been doing too good either. He told my sister that those meetings are bullshit and he’s sure that I’m still getting high. 

I’m almost done with this journal. Where will I be at the end of the next one… Even though I’m clean, I still make terrible decisions. 

DON’T TALK SHIT. YOU DON’T KNOW. 

I can’t believe he wrote in my fucken diary! I hate that piece of shit. What a fucking scumbag. He’s a fat loser with a fucking house on short sale and three others in foreclosure. He’s fucked up, his family sucks, he has no friends, he lost his job, and he’s telling ME to grow up? Maybe he should fucking grow up.